Those Four Words
by steepedinshadows419
Summary: Post 3x02 - Barry gets impatient waiting for Iris to tell him she loves him again. Three-part.
1. Barry's POV

**A/N:** I know I swore off any new multi-chaps until I finished at least one, but this fic is going to be updated daily and finished before the episode on tuesday, so that's my justification. Also, my conception of how Barry's memories are erased and return is obvious in this fic. It might not be how it actually is, but unless the show writers tell us otherwise, it's what I'm sticking with.

 ***** I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

...

He knows this is normal – _it is_ ; and he knows she'll say it eventually – _she will_ ; he knows she feels the same way – _she does_ ; and he knows that often actions speak louder than words – _they do_.

But there's this voice creeping up on him day after day. In the silent moments, he hears the declaration from a lifetime ago – four months, two days and fifteen hours approximately for him. For this Iris? Not at all. Never. Those four words he cherished from her more than any other have yet to be uttered by those perfect, kissable lips.

It isn't like in Flashpoint where the memories of his past life have started to be erased from even _his_ memory. As distorted as this new timeline is, in its general structure it's the same timeline he left behind. There were some nasty side effects to leaving and coming back, but there's enough familiarity grounded in fact in this timeline to still feel like the home he's known for most of his life. So when he had the Reverse Flash kill his mother again, his memories of that first life, they all came flooding back again.

Some of them get fuzzy on occasion, but only the way memories from decades ago start to get fuzzy. When one ages, every single memory is no longer intact. It's like that for some memories from the first life he knew. But not this memory.

This memory came back with a vengeance as soon as he returned. It stayed there. It stuck. It was ever present in his mind whenever he saw Iris West and whenever he thought of her too. On Joe's porch when with talk of destiny and a simple kiss pushed them into the place that had always felt so out of reach, he told himself he could wait. Iris didn't need to know. He didn't have to tell her. They still got to where they needed to be, and he knew in time she would say it again. He wasn't going to ruin that perfect moment with a _'you know what would make this moment even better?'_ line. It wasn't necessary and he didn't need it.

Then.

He didn't need it _then_.

Now he was getting impatient.

It wasn't that he was dissatisfied with their relationship – _he wasn't_. Their first date, while interrupted and requiring a few changes of clothes and times of day and days in general, had been perfect. Iris had been drop dead gorgeous in every outfit. He'd been smiling like an idiot the entire time, hardly able to shut his mouth long enough to stuff food into it the first time and kiss her the second. God, kissing Iris West was _amazing_.

If he included all the versions of her he'd encountered, he'd officially kissed Iris West six times before they started dating. If he counted just this current version of Iris, the Iris he knew best, the first kisses totaled to three. Three times he'd first-kissed this Iris. Since their story was almost completely identical to what it had been prior to saving his mom, he saw no reason to separate who she was before and who she is now. She's Iris. _His_ Iris. If he was being honest, the Iris he felt the most connected to and always would was this one, no matter what he'd convinced himself of in the past.

And so, for this Iris to say those four words and then not remember she'd said them was heartbreaking.

He yearned for her to say those four words – _ached_ for it. She could not say those words soon enough as far as he was concerned.

But, as he reminded himself on a very regular basis, if his dad hadn't died, and they had just picked up where they'd left off with him propositioning her for a romantic relationship after their temporary defeat of Zoom, it was likely she wouldn't have said it at all. She wouldn't have said those words. He wouldn't have left and she wouldn't be waiting. Things could proceed in the way a normal, everyday romantic relationship did. And in those, it could be months before a declaration of this nature might be spoken in its most simple form.

Hadn't she said it though before they'd embarked on this relationship?

 _"I have been thinking about you"_

 _"Maybe we were meant to be together"_

 _"You, Barry, that's who I want to see if I have a future with"_

 _"Come home to me"_

 _"I just wanted to make sure you felt the same"_

 _"We always find each other"_

Hadn't she shown it in reaching out to him through the speed force and bringing him back to the land of the living in one piece, powers and all?

His relationship with Iris now wasn't just a steady relationship. It was exciting, thrilling. If her mere presence had electrified all of his senses in the twenty-five years before he became The Flash and before he told her how he felt the first time, it was heightened into overdrive now. How he felt when he was around her left him even more lightheaded and happy than it had with the Iris he'd met in Flashpoint. This was his Iris. And she was – and he was –

She _let him hold her hand_. She let him _kiss her_. She _initiated_ handholding and kissing. She lit up when she saw him. When she buried her nose in flowers he brought her, she looked up at him through the petals and seduced him with her eyes. She laughed more, smiled more. She thought everything he said was funny or darling. And when it wasn't, she gave him a light smack on his chest and then curled her arm around his neck to kiss him anyway.

They hadn't slept together yet, but he was in no hurry to get to that step. He was having trouble keeping his head out of the clouds now, and they'd only been dating a month.

Dating. He was _dating_ Iris West.

How much more surreal did it get than that?

 _I love you, Barry._

That was how surreal it could get.

It was shocking and reassuring the first time. It was warm. It was something to hold onto in the darkness, despite the fact that he knew it was going to be erased in a moment. And that it was his choice.

He regretted letting go of that moment more than anything else.

She had been willing to wait for him. She encouraged him to do what was necessary for him to find peace. And she was his. Totally and completely his. And she loved him.

And _he_ – he told her he loved her. And that he always would.

Something he had yet to repeat and hated to be reminded of.

 _I already said it!_ he insisted to himself whenever the accusation of _You haven't said it either_ came roaring back to him.

Because for all the reasons he justified were why she hadn't said it were the very same reasons he hadn't said it since he came back. They'd last said it when everything around them had seemed so very fragile. It didn't make it less true then, but with everything back to normal, it would be even truer now. It would be solid. There would be no doubting it. There would be no going back.

And okay, he was afraid if he said it and she didn't, a wall would rise up between them. He didn't want any more walls. He wanted space. He wanted kissing and hugging and nothing between them but happiness and love.

But he wanted to say it. And he wanted her to say it. He wanted her to say it so badly it hurt. If she didn't say it, he was afraid he'd let it slip one night that she _had_ said it once. Then it wouldn't be organic. She would feel guilty maybe. She wouldn't tell him out of a natural feeling to do so, as she would have if he hadn't said anything.

Because she said she didn't want to know about the other timelines. So, he didn't tell her.

But _he_ knew about the other timelines. He knew about the time she said _I love you, Barry_. He replayed the memory over and over again in his mind until he almost believed this Iris had said it. She was the same but their story was 2 percent different, and that 2 percent was _killing_ _him_.


	2. Iris's POV

**A/N:** A little late, but I was pretty busy yesterday and then I was feeling all out of sorts. Here it is though! And I'm pretty sure I more than made up for it with the cuteness factor. Enjoy!

 ***** I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

...

 _Was it possible to be this happy?_

Four and a half weeks of dating Barry and Iris couldn't imagine a time when she'd felt more alive, more at peace, more motivated to live and to breathe if it meant spending time with Barry. If it meant being his _girlfriend_.

 _Barry Allen's girlfriend._

That's who she was now. Or, part of who she was at least. The part that made her the most happy. The part of her that had most recently developed.

She went to bed every night thinking about that, about him. She woke up every morning the same way. He texted her goodnight and he texted her good morning. He stopped by her office every day with either coffee, flowers, or brownies. Sometimes he came with all three.

He was always grinning at her, always smiling. She knew she was returning the favor because whenever he left her office he did so by walking backward, and without fail he always bumped into the doorframe, blushing promptly.

Linda had stopped asking why Iris took longer to write articles now or why she sometimes just stared at the gifts Barry had dropped off for a total of ten minutes, biting down on her bottom lip and smiling unabashedly.

 _"Shameful. To think Iris West is reduced to this."_ She'd teased once, shaking her head.

Iris hadn't even tried to defend herself. She barely looked up to acknowledge the jest. All she could think about was the next time she'd see Barry. As if he could read her mind, usually soon after that she'd get a text from him asking if she was free that evening.

She was always free. When she wasn't she was more upset by that fact than by the disappointment she knew would be etched onto that puppy dog face of his when she had to break the bad news to him.

Not even with Eddie had she felt this insatiable joy and need to be close to him, to spend every waking moment that wasn't spent at work to be near him. She wished she'd taken a second look at him sooner, that it hadn't taken them so long to say how they felt about each other and to not have the complication of being in a relationship with somebody else.

But that was all in the past now. The present was so pure and so wonderful that all the pain and frustration that had brought them to this point all felt worth it.

She was quickly becoming addicted to Barry's kisses too. He was _really good_ at kissing her.

She knew he'd had girlfriends in the past, at least three that she'd met. If he had any girlfriends in college, he never talked about it. So that was explanation enough that he knew how to kiss. It was also totally possible that he was just a natural. Barry was a quick learner. That only increased after he became the Flash.

She thought so much about his kisses that her mind often traveled down a darker path and wondered what else he would be good at.

 _No_ , she scolded herself time and again. They had only been dating a little over a _month_. She couldn't want that. Or, at least she couldn't voice that want.

But it was definitely a want. She lingered on his body when she didn't think he was watching. She thought about it at night and had more than her share of wet dreams. Her best friend – now boyfriend – was ridiculously attractive. Combine that with how much he loved her and how much she—

 _Oh_.

There it was. Another thing that hadn't happened yet.

It made her uncomfortable to think about, that she hadn't said those three words. Or four. That she hadn't directly said _I love you, Barry_.

It wasn't a question of if she did or not. _Of course_ she did. She always had. It had just taken him telling her how he felt for her to realize it. Things had gotten complicated after that, but it never changed how she felt.

And it wasn't that she doubted how he felt either. Everything he did and said and the way he looked at her indicated he was very much in love. She hadn't seen him act this way around any other girl.

But he hadn't repeated the words he'd confessed two Christmases ago, nervous and guilty as he was and probably very certain that she didn't feel the same way or wouldn't reciprocate if she did. Because of Eddie.

In her mind, it was definitely his turn.

It had taken her awhile to come around, but ever since then she'd initiated almost everything. Sure, he'd propositioned moving forward in their relationship before his dad died. And yes, he'd definitely been the one to make that first kiss as happen, as well as almost all of their dates. His favorite words to say were "so, you wanna…?"

Awkward shoulder shrugging and head gesturing often followed the question that was implied there. Sometimes his hands flailed about and he knocked things over on her desk or tripped over some item on the carpet that wasn't actually there.

She liked to wait to respond because he was so adorably on edge that she might say _no_ or the justifiable _I'm busy_. Her eyes often twinkled though when she put him out of his misery and responded with an "Oh, I wanna."

His audible sigh of relief combined with a blistering smile made her pull him close and kiss him always. She couldn't help it. He was irresistible and adorable and he was all hers.

 _"Get a room!"_ Linda would call out if she was passing by.

Sometimes Iris would get up and shut the door and come back to him when that happened. Either that or Barry would speed her outside to a secluded area. Regardless, they would make out for a good five minutes before another obligation, responsibility or distraction forced them to part ways.

They weren't moving fast though. They were moving just right. It wasn't like they had just met either, so maybe confessions of love said this early wouldn't threaten to break the happy bubble that had surrounded them from that very first kiss.

But why did he need to hear it? Surely he knew how she felt. She'd said plenty of things before they started dating that implied that she did. _I practically said we were destined. Shouldn't that be enough?_ she defended herself over and over when _He's never heard you say those words in_ _ **that**_ _way_ popped into her head.

Her Barry was such a romantic. Despite his speechlessness the first time she'd told him how she felt, with how far they'd come, she couldn't imagine him not reciprocating now.

The mere thought of those words, _I love you, too_ , sent shivers down her spine and put her heart into full flutter mode. It made her realize that despite her uncertainty, she wanted to tell him. She wanted to put it all out there. She wanted him to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that yes, she was that far along. She loved him more than she'd ever loved anyone and she wouldn't ever love anyone but him ever again. The possibility that someone could love this deeply threatened to overwhelm her but it didn't make it any less true.

The excuse that she'd defiantly used in past weeks, that he hadn't said it again yet; and the unspoken, rarely thought one – that maybe it would be more special if it was said when they slept together for the very first time – seemed awfully pathetic now.

Why should she – why should _they_ – have to wait till then? Whenever that magical moment came upon them, she knew it would be special regardless. It didn't need secret ingredients like first love confessions or even a planned romantic atmosphere to make it incredibly meaningful for both of them.

The bottom line was she'd been in love with him long before they'd been on the same page. His eagerness to be with her after she'd nervously confessed how she felt told her loud and clear that his feelings had never gone away and probably hadn't lessened any either.

So, okay, she would say it. And soon. She was impatient to do it even now. Because she could hear his voice in her head, the gentle whisper, the passionate proclamation, the rough, choked-up reciprocation.

 _I love you, too._


	3. Those Four Words

**A/N:** If you thought that last chap was cute, you ain't seen nothin yet. ;)

 ***** I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

...

"Barry?"

He turned to see her come around the corner and his jaw dropped. He would never get tired of seeing her all dressed up for him. That she took time to look nice for him when she had no need to always baffled him. She was beyond attractive in sweats and a t-shirt with hair going in all different directions and unwashed skin with smudged mascara. He didn't think he'd be able to handle when he finally saw her in lingerie. The thought of seeing her naked one day made his head spin and his pulse kick up.

Iris rolled her eyes at his reaction, but smiled as she walked to and past him, clasping his hand in her owns before he knew what hit him.

"W-where are we going?" he asked, his eyes traveling across her bare shoulders to the wispy hairs at the nape of her neck.

"Still stuttering, Bear? After nineteen dates?" She raised an eyebrow.

His brain momentarily flatlined. _She was counting._ He thought he was the only one.

He swallowed hard. "It's not my fault you're so beautiful."

Delicious shivers erupted all over her body.

"We're going to have to go to the beach sometime."

Visions of her in a swimsuit, emphasizing all her curves and showing a bit more skin danced across his mind, threatening to destroy his self-control.

"Why's that?" he squeaked.

She turned her head to look at him, amused.

"I think it's high time I saw you shirtless, Barry Allen."

He nearly stopped breathing.

"Why—" he choked on his regained breath. "Why would you want—"

Iris came to a stop, looked him straight in the eye and then laughed. " _Barry_."

And then she kissed him. Even in high heels, she had to pull his head down to hers. Her hands wrapped around the back of it, forcing the kiss into depths neither of them could remember. The feel of his tongue expertly twisting with hers made her knees weak. His arms wrapped around her waist, and it wasn't till a whistle from a passerby registered that they were forced to break apart.

They turned to see the smirking teenager keep walking, then looked at each other, laughed and then smiled. Barry initiated a softer kiss this time and Iris smiled into it.

"What?" he asked when they pulled apart, his face lingering so it graze her cheek.

"You didn't even ask."

He chuckled. "Well, after your kiss, I guess I figured I had your permission."

She smiled cheekily and grabbed his hand again. "You assume correctly."

…

They stopped at a little café and had lunch. Iris ordered iced tea for her drink, which made Barry halt for a second in what he was doing.

"What?" she asked, brows furrowed at the bizarre expression on his face.

"Uh…nothing," he tried to pass off. "I just didn't realize you liked iced tea."

She smirked, amused. "It's a good day for iced tea. It's sunny, it's warm…" She reached across the table to intertwine their fingers. "And I'm with you," she said softly.

The butterflies exploded in his chest.

"I'll take an iced tea too," he told the waiter without looking up at him.

…

They were on their way back to Iris's apartment, pleasantly surprised that there had been no interruptions to their date that day when Iris realized she still hadn't told him.

 _You don't have to tell him today_ , the voice in her head told her. She wondered how it had suddenly gotten sympathetic to her cause. _But I do_ , she told it. _I want to_. The other voice remained silent.

"Barry…" she ventured carefully.

"Yeah?" he asked, blissfully unaware of her nerves beginning to show.

"I had a lot of fun today," she said, relaxing a little because that was a safe thing to say, and it was true.

"Me too." He smiled broadly and began to swing their hands, glancing down to look at them and smiling even wider.

"What part was your favorite?" she asked, feeling a bit like a child as she stood up on her tip toes for a second, her knees bending slightly in a little jump that didn't leave the ground.

He turned to look at her, smile still plastered on his face. He could not get over how excited she always was to be with him. And in this way.

"Well, that first kiss was pretty memorable."

She bit her bottom lip, unable to suppress a little giggle.

"What else?"

He couldn't look away from her.

"Seeing you in that dress," he said, giving her figure another appreciative stare.

The heat in his eyes was unmistakable.

She swallowed.

"I liked when you took your jacket off," she said and he looked away briefly, aware of the heat rising up his neck to his cheeks. "You're…" She let go of her hand and let it glide up to his bicep covered once more by the jacket he'd adorned earlier. She squeezed gently.

" _Iris_."

He had never seen her like this, so suggestive, so forward. He knew she found him attractive, because _duh_ , _she let him kiss her_. But tonight…tonight she was a firecracker. He was a little concerned she might try to lure him into her bedroom when they got back to her apartment, and he was so not ready for that. He needed preparation. At least a few hours notice.

He worried briefly then that she would try to walk around Central City a few more hours.

Nah, he dismissed it. Those heels of hers had to be killing her. He reminded himself though that if Iris West set her mind to it, she could accomplish anything. Even walking around in six inch heels a while longer. Even seducing him when they got back to her place, which wouldn't be that hard, he admitted to himself despite his nerves.

She laughed softly and returned her hand to his.

"Relax, Allen. I'm quite capable of controlling myself."

 _Lucky you_ , he thought. The corners of his lips twitched.

"There was…something…" she took a deep breath, "that I wanted to tell you though."

The switch in her tone and her breathing relaxed him but also somewhat startled him. He stopped them and turned her to face him.

"What is it?" he asked, intertwining their fingers on both hands, trying to soothe her with whatever seemed to be the matter. It appeared something was. He wondered if it was bad, or if it would kill him.

"It's not bad," she assured him, a nervous chuckle slipping through.

He looked at her questioningly, a queasy yet hopeful feeling starting to bubble inside him.

She opened her mouth and closed it several times before continuing.

"It's…well, we…we haven't really talked about our feelings."

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. _Was she going to say it?_ He felt sweat droplets begin to form on his forehead.

"I did call you beautiful," he reminded her, struggling to breathe. "Many times, in fact."

She nodded and smiled. "Yes, I remember. I delivered similar compliments. And I smile a lot. And I kiss you."

"Oh, I'm aware." He grinned, smug.

She smacked his chest lightly but smiled despite herself.

"What I'm _trying_ to say—"

" _Yes_?" he prompted her.

"Is that…" She looked up into his eyes and saw her whole future. She swallowed and parted her quivering lips. "I love you, Barry."

The words hit him with the force of a freight train. They didn't sound exactly the same as they had the first time. There wasn't that hint of sadness that they contained the last time when she thought she'd be saying goodbye for awhile. But the words were soft and gentle and pleading for a response. Her eyes shone with the truth in them and he knew this time around her confession was just as good, if not a million times better.

He set his hands on her bare shoulder and moved them till them cupped her face. Then, moving in slowly, he captured her lips in a single kiss. It felt so much like the first time that he could almost imagine it was. When he pulled away her whole heart shone out of her eyes and he smiled, gazing at her in just the same way.

"I love you, too." He paused; then added, "And I always will."

Her gasp was almost inaudible as a gushing smile formed on her beautiful face. Unconsciously, she bit her bottom lip.

"That's even better than I'd hoped for," she breathed, stars shimmering in her eyes.

He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her in, entrancing her with a passionate kiss that rivaled the one at the beginning of their date. With no passersby to distract them, it went on quite awhile, until almost all oxygen had been expelled.

"I love you more than I've ever loved anyone," she breathed heavily against his face, her forehead pressed against his. She met his eyes even in that close skin-to-skin contact. "And I'm never going to love anyone but you for as long as I live."

The inevitability of them, the destined feeling he'd felt so frequently in the past year resurfaced once again. It had only been a month – well, month and a half – since they'd been together, but _God_ how he wanted to ask it.

 _Will you marry me?_

...

 **A/N:** I hope you enjoyed this fic! I had a lot of fun writing it. Hoping to have Flashpoint updated next. :)


End file.
